Where the Clouds Start to Break
by TheCityTurnsOrange
Summary: Your smile, your anger keeps me walking forward. A series of completely random Konoha-themed pseudo-drabbles.
1. Drawers

Wow, I posted, and then realized I had forgotten to write an Author's Note. Not that anyone reads these I'm sure, but I do like to hear myself talk. So thanks to **Marcab**, for being in-generally great, and I did not want to bother you yet with something that was only 320 words. Also thanks to **Kakashi's Dog** and **Mira-Chan**, who reviewed my last story, Gaze. Right. That's all, I think. Oh, and these pseudo-drabbles (I am incapable of writing as few as 100 words) will be really random topics, genres, characters, events and times, and I might end up changing the rating later. But they will all take place in Konoha. Yeah.

**Disclaimer**: Ya think? I don't even own the title or half of my summary. They came from the song Michi to You All by Aluto, one of the Naruto Shippuden endings.

Shizune did not by any means consider herself nosy. She would admit (grudgingly) that she had a tendency to be just a little overbearing, but when it came to a woman like Tsunade, there wasn't any way around it. Still, _nosy _was that Hyuuga boy who'd used his Byakugan to spy on his unsuspecting teammates in their houses or the flower-selling girl, always buzzing around listening for the latest juicy gossip. Or Jiraiya who had not only broken into the women's onsen last week, but had seen fit to inspect the poor girls' undergarments, while they were outside, bathing.

Well, _perverted_ may have been a more accurate word than _nosy,_ in this case.

Still, those peoples' behaviour was _leagues _from hers, Shizune told herself as she kneeled on the hard wooden floor, the bottom drawer of Tsunade's desk open in front of her, and a large stack of paperwork to her left. No, this was not nosiness, but _responsibility _when her mentor couldn't be bothered to skim over a few contracts.

Dammit, Tsunade hadn't even glanced at this stuff!

Well, _nothing._ Shizune tried the next drawer, which seemed considerably less dusty than the others had been. Maybe this was where the Hokage had put her latest documents.

She opened it, sighed, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. _Of course._ The bottle clinked slightly as Shizune removed it from the drawer, placing it on the floor next her, and for the first time she felt a bit guilty.

But then, this wasn't _nosiness. _When there were myriads of people shoving paperwork in her direction, Tsunade had no business drinking sake.

No, Shizune didn't feel guilty. It was, after all, her _responsibility_ to rid the office of anything that might hinder the _Hokage's_ ability to make sound judgements.

Besides, Shizune was sure as hell _she_ needed it oh-so-much more.


	2. Porcelain

こんばんは, みんな! いま うれしい わねえ!

Ok, I've really got to give it a rest with the Japanese. **Marcab **(who very professionally dealt with my insufficient grasp of the English language today; thanks, you!) would attest to that if she weren't so starry-eyed about the language in general. So let's also give thanks to **Cloudwatcherlover1994 **(yes, there will be romance too, and when I actually begin to write it, I will probably be cursing myself for promising that P) and **Kakashi's Dog** (Aww thanks, you're too kind!). If I don't shut up soon, the A/N may become longer that the actual story, so without further ado, はじめましょう!

Oh, wait, the **Disclaimer.** Damn.

Still summer air hangs around the Academy yard. Foliage too green, sky too blue, all illuminated by the late afternoon sun. A pretty photograph wrapped completely around you.

Trouble with pink is that it would clash with the scenery at least half of the year.

Complete disillusionment. Shock.

And yet you had become so good at deluding yourself. You had seen too many stories; you had fancied yourself quite the heroine. Your love, your kiss-you used to fantasize- could heal, or, at very least, distract him from the uglier parts of his own nature, until they had faded away completely. You had brushed off his rejections as guardedness, even shyness, but never as genuine disinterest. You had played mother and nurse; you had played a needy child; you had played dumb, you had been flirty and reserved and weak and strong and fun and devoted and..._nothing_. Where had you gone wrong?

_Somewhere _obviously, because he had left you draped over a bench like a some sort of sad, broken doll. And _still_, your mind had gone wild with fantasies. You wonder if he had picked you up gently, holding you delicately, like a flower or pretty glass vase, and brushed a strong hand lightly over your cheek before setting you down. Would you have felt his toned chest and heartbeat? Was he regretful..._maybe? Please?_

Lying to yourself was no easy habit to break when they came so naturally, so comforting and warm.

And, yes, it really was very selfish of you to dream even now, but then again you hadn't grown much from the little girl, who would measure her forehead daily and cry when she lost her favorite toy.


	3. Whipped

Hiya! I'm back! As usual, we must all thank **Marcab**, who did _not_ beta this chapter, I feel the need to mention, because I wouldn't want anyone judging her unkindly. Thanks also to **Zzzzzetsu**, **Kakashi's Dog **(I'm so glad you liked it! I've always been one of the rare people who actually _likes _Sakura-even did a bit a before Shippuden, probably because I have great insight and experience in what it's like to be whiny and annoying...but, still...), and **Mira-chan** (If I tell you the Japanese now it'll be anti-climatic...oh, fine, it was something to the effect of "Good evening, everyone! I'm really happy!"...and then I said, "Let's begin!"...so it really wasn't all that great.) And for those of you who like Shikamaru, don't worry, I'll make a _real_ effort at writing him later.

**Disclaimer: **(Whoever can read this, please review translating...bet no one will though...) なると の まんが と アニメ は わたし の じゃなくて, なると の ひと は さすけ の です.

Through the open window, Shikamaru could hear shouts, snarls, the odd shattering piece of glass, and whimpers from the kitchen. All but one of which were probably coming from his mother. His father was just playing the victim as usual.

_Ho hum._ Shikamaru closed the back door as quietly as possible to avoid the usual stream of "Get back here, boy!" and "Where are _you_ off to, you lazy brat!" and accusations and requests and chores and...oh, just picturing it was troublesome. He was certain that even had he slammed the door with all of his might, there was no way it could be heard above the din in the kitchen, but it was best to be cautious when there was so much at stake.

His free time, that was. Although, actually, every moment of Shikamaru's time was free time, except for the bare minimum amount of work that was necessary to continue to function. He really couldn't complain about being overworked. Over-nagged was closer, because free time felt a whole lot freer without what sounded like a brick being banged against his locked bedroom door. Sleeping through _that _was difficult.

_Even the roughest woman is tender to the guy she loves._

Shikamaru nearly choked as he suddenly imagined himself backed up against a wall while an irate Temari waved a spatula at him. Damn, he _hated_ girls.


	4. Schedule

Oh, dear, this is like a quadruple drabble. I really just can't shut up, can I? And the worst thing is that I'm probably gonna rant like one hundred words in the author's note as well. Thanks Marcab as usual for helping to salvage this thing...I actually woke up this morning and looked at this like, "HUH?! What the hell? WHAT idiot wrote this?...oh." Thanks as usual, Kakashi's Dog, I agree about the fangirl thing, but she got so cool after Shippuden! Whereas some characters instead regressed back to "emotional amoeba" state (Copyright Marcab 2008), instead of growing. But I'll quit ranting at this point except to note that editing with people singing very high pitched pseudo-opera music in the next room is difficult and time consuming.

Disclaimer: As last chapter's said that no one translated :sighs in mock disappointment: Naruto the manga is not mine, and Naruto the person is Sasuke's. :)

At exactly twelve minutes past four in the morning, Yuhi Kurenai was leading a bleary-eyed and half-asleep Sarutobi Asuma out of her front door, and into the rainy streets of Konoha where he would likely meander in a zombie-like fashion until he gathered presence of mind necessary to light a cigarette, and came to his senses once more. Asuma probably found these circumstances a bit harsh, but Kurenai felt she was being quite generous. After all, as she had always told him, he was supposed to be gone by half past three, even if he had never quite been able to reach that ideal in the ten months that they had been keeping this schedule.

Routine. Every relationship would lapse into it eventually, as much as young people tried to flee from it like the plague. It was unavoidable. Each couple had quirks no other would never understand, unfunny, old running jokes that neither partner had the heart to cut short, and arguments that would never be resolved. Kurenai didn't mind. Repetitive rituals could be extremely comforting- a safety blanket to cleave to in a constantly changing world. Although, on the other hand, she had to recognize that it was often the little, annoying, habits that broke apart marriages and drove lovers insane. Both of these phenomena appeared consistently in her life.

The way he'd snuck glances at her all throughout the day making no effort to hide the connection between them. It was a running argument; she'd chastise him to "be more discreet" and he'd tell her not to be so "uptight". The same words each round. _Frustration._

The protective, displeased expression his face wore at any teasing or in-poor-taste comment directed at her (usually courtesy of Hatake Kakashi or Mitarashi Anko, both of whom had a sharp eye for what was going on.) amused Kurenai to no end. _Comfort._

The harsh, eye-stinging sensation of smoke as he opened his door, and she would _always_ pointedly inhale, wince, and give exactly _three_ very meaningful coughs, before he would roll his eyes and motion for her to enter._Frustration._

The way she could predict the taste of his chapped lips and scent of his skin even before he closed the distance between them. She could feel the path his hand would trace tingling even before his fingers brushed against her. Her too-soon sigh of pleasure elicited smiles from both of them. _A different sort of frustration._

Yuhi Kurenai would be the first to admit that just maybe, she might be in, what was generally called, a rut. But far from the desire to break out, routine had enslaved her and she was its more-than-willing servant.


	5. Distant Glow

No! This has a ton of words again, doesn't it? Why, oh why, did I of all people attempt drabbles of all things? I think I'll just cut myself off right now, because I really don't want to irritate my readers as much as I'm irritating myself right now. Thanks to Marcab, for, uh, being Marcab. Yeah, that's it. I should thank the anon reviewers, so thank you guys , I love you, I really do, which is why I'm not addressing you individually, because I don't want to subject anyone to more of my insomniac early morning incoherence than necessary.

That being said, my title comes from the glow you see from behind the mountains when the sun is about to rise but not yet visible. As a person who's usually awake at that point, I know these things. ; )

Disclaimer: There's no way I'm making an effort to come up with something witty at this hour.

It's a ridiculous time in the early morning, and Naruto has no idea which of his muses decided the the rooftops were preferable to his own warm bed, a pity because said muse really deserved some form of punishment. The stars are still glittering steadily but perhaps the sky is a bit lighter than it was before, so morning must be coming at some point. Yes, right beyond the mountains is light, it is certain. The sun will be up soon, Naruto tells himself...or maybe that's a bit of a stretch. Probably it's only his justification for continuing to lie on a roof when the logical part of his mind that guides him through his waking life is long dead. The stream-of-consciousness, meandering, confusing part that only shows it's face on nights like these seems to have taken over completely.

His sleep-deprived thoughts take a turn and all of a sudden, he's baffled at the scene around him, the view of Konoha (if he had the presence of mind, he could name every shop and house), the distant mountains, and the endless cloud-striped sky, and struck anew at the strange sensation of life, to be anywhere in all it's startling detail. It doesn't last long and soon he's shaking his head at himself; Uzumaki Naruto doesn't do what he fondly terms "philosophical shit". It's part of what makes him, the ambition that pushes him forward into every action with little room for reflection or commentary, and sitting around, incoherent, on a rooftop now is probably the first time he's set aside a moment of silence to contemplate in weeks. Maybe that's why he's survived thus far, without breaking under all the scorn and his own failures, because they never had a chance to sink in. It's something to think about, he tells himself not that he does "thinking" either. Sasuke would confirm that.

Nonetheless, even a fool like Naruto needs his occasional time to reflect. Wait, is he insulting himself now? He has Sasuke for that. Shaking his head at his own groggy, nonsensical mind, Naruto turns his eyes to the sky. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he's sure that the glow he thinks he sees emanating from behind the mountain indicates morning's imminent arrival. If there is any chance that the sun will rise soon, Naruto can keep his eyes open, at least for a little while longer.


	6. Cozy

I think I told **Marcab **(who I'll add in my thanks) once that I would write some shoujo-ai. I'm not sure if I was serious at the time, but the mood struck me, and, well...don't hurt me! Anyway...there...I warned you. **Kakashi's Dog**: I will readily admit to being lazy...sorry. :cringe: I'm really planning on updating more-really! We'll see how that goes though... P **SasukeNarutoYaoiFan: **Aww, thank you! I probably will write SasuNaru, I love it, although I've seen so much great stuff I'm almost afraid to even touch it. BTW, people...for some reason, my review replies aren't working right now.

**Disclaimer:** Uh, don't exactly own...don't exactly want to be sued however...

On a winter day of the softest variety, the cleanest, coldest white that makes everything warm and loving, Ino is curled up under a blanket with her best friend, arms around each other and conversation drifting.

Ino shuffles to make herself more comfortable, while Sakura does the same, and somehow their faces end up far too close. Something in her shivers, telling her to pull back, and somewhere in her thought process, the message is lost and her body instead chooses to do the opposite. But Sakura is moving too, and quite quickly and abruptly their lips are touching. Ino can't figure out who started it or whether it's an accident, and while she attempts to puzzle it out, the other girl is already drawing back, eyes very wide. There isn't enough time to feel much of anything except shock, and an awkward staredown ensues, Ino's mind racing for a way to break this terrifying silence. She wonders if Sakura is unnerved to the same extent.

"Hah! I certainly hope that _Sasuke-kun's _kisses will taste better than that!" Ino cries, laughing mockingly to mask the vulnerable feeling creeping up through her chest and threatening to settle on her features.

"Well, that's not something _you'll_ ever know, is it?" Sakura shoots back, but her sneer appears equally manufactured.

Time-worn taunts are thrown out and soon the room is filled with noise and giggling once more, but Ino can't seem to hear any of it. Memories of the kiss (if one could even call it that, in the loosest sense of the word) are taking up most of the room in her mind, and the spaces in between are filled with questions frantically floating upwards, all of it colored by a dizzy, confused giddiness.

So she jumps up under the excuse of "making us some tea", but really sits in the kitchen for a while, hand smoothing her perfect hair and trying to slow her breathing.


	7. Only in Death

A/N: I promised I'd update soon, but....wow, I'm hopeless. Anyway, endless thanks to people who tolerate these "drabbles" and **Marcab** again. I've had the most awful case of writer's block since school started. I'm trying to break it now.

Freaking **Disclaimer.**

Last time Sasuke had seen his brother's eyes, they were empty. His blank face and smooth, deep voice hadn't backed up his hateful words.

But...his eyes. They weren't....anything. Anything but tired.

And Sasuke couldn't rid himself of the image.

The half formed sneer, palid skin, and shining black hair. And empty eyes. Eyes that told Sasuke, his brother wasn't afraid. His brother wasn't angry. His brother didn't care about Sasuke's challenges, he'd rather Sasuke just go home and shut up. Eyes that told Sasuke his brother was only bored with him.

And that incensed Sasuke more than anything.

His brother_ should_ have loved him. That was out of the question, of course, so he should have hated him. In a twisted way, it didn't matter. The distinction between the two was meaningless now.

Who was he to tell _Sasuke_ that _he _didn't have enough hate? _He_ couldn't feel the simmering anger that Sasuke had nurtured for so long that it was the only part of him left. _He_ couldn't know that on nights when the Uchiha manor was too empty to bear, Sasuke's hatred was all that let him sleep. That the image of Itachi's limp, broken body, dead beneath his feet gave him greater satisfaction than anything else in the world.

Still, Sasuke made a vow to himself, as he stared up at the ceiling that night. He would never see his brother's eyes empty again until he saw them wide open and glassy in death.


	8. Animal Magnetism

A/N: I really need to learn to not ramble in authors' notes. That said, I'm going to ramble now. LOL.

Thanks to the usual people, and I'm terribly sorry that I went with a stereotypical portrayal of Gai. I promise I'll go more in depth when I'm actually trying to be serious. **Kakashi's Dog**: OMG, you have no idea how thankful I am that even after all this time you still reviewed quickly, even though I was lame with the updates. I don't think I had an excuse-least not a good one. And, yeah, I'm equally disappointed about Sasuke's character anti-development. ::waves the Marcab fist of righteous anger::

Rock Lee would have entrusted anything to his sensei. His well-being, his deepest secrets, his most valued possessions, and everyone he held dear; Lee believed he could claim perfectly honestly that if he surrendered all control and put his entire life in the hands of his Sensei, he wouldn't be the slightest bit uncomfortable.

So, he told himself, plastering on an enthusiastic smile, he shouldn't be the slightest bit uncomfortable now, should he?

When Gai had announced to his unsuspecting student that his current green jumpsuit didn't "DISPLAY HIS YOUTHFUL FEATURES TO HIS BEST ADVANTAGE!", Lee hadn't been at all ill at ease. It was only after he had been dragged out shopping for more clothing and presented with an identical green jumpsuit that sweat began to trickle down his brow.

"Sensei, I am young and ignorant and completely at fault! But! What is the difference between this outfit and mine?"

"Ahh, learning is such a beautiful thing! What a great teaching experience! Soon you will be a man and you will need to know the rules of style and attraction!"

"But...but...what has that got to do with this-!"

"Not a word, my young friend!" cried Gai, his exuberance reaching levels that were as of yet unknown to man. "In order to win with the ladies, you must present to them a raw, burning animal magnetism-"

"But it's the same-"

"Take a lesson from a master!"

After five or so more failed attempts to get a word in edgewise, Rock Lee conceded, and, although having been offered no explanation, simply bought the garment. It was the right decision of course, because it was his mastermind sensei's idea, so he wasn't doubtful. Never. He was merely...a bit curious as to the nature of this decision. Perhaps he was too young. Maybe it wasn't his place to understand just yet, Lee figured.

As the student and teacher checked out, the teenage girl behind the counter, in a genuine effort to be pleasant, despite her apparent boredom, intoned something to the effect of, "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Most certainly is!" Lee grinned back. "The beauty of nature is completely unrivaled!"

Poor girl looked a little taken aback. "Uhh...yes...yes, it is..."

An idea stuck Lee suddenly. "Pardon my asking, but...what would you say the difference is...."

"Between this jumpsuit and the one you're wearing?" Her previously blank expression had morphed to something close to amusement.

Lee nodded vigorously.

"Well..." she checked the garment, before smirking slightly again. "....Oh...Yeah. This one will be much more snug in, um, certain places..."


End file.
